


Silver as Seafoam

by sarai377



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Little Mermaid AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-27
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2021-01-04 17:47:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21201611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarai377/pseuds/sarai377
Summary: When prince Chrom is kidnapped from Ylisstol and disposed of in the sea, he meets someone in the waters that he didn't expect...Little Mermaid AU





	Silver as Seafoam

Chrom’s death was imminent, but he still fought it. 

He fought back in the city, late at night, down a too-dark alley shortcut he really shouldn’t have taken. He slashed and struggled against the first of his unknown attackers, starting to shout for help, when a rough fabric was shoved into his mouth. He fought as one of the men got in a lucky slash with a lance - as Falchion was stripped from his hands - as he was shoved down to the hard cold cobblestones, his hands tied behind his back and his ankles after that. He fought until he couldn’t breathe, until he had no strength left. 

Chrom had thought himself dead then, but to his surprise, a rough burlap sack was thrown over his head, smelling of onions and herbs. 

He fought on the ship, as the men tied him to the mast, moonlight and starlight the only observers as the crown prince of Ylisse was stolen away from the city of his birth. He bit whoever came near, refusing food or drink, as his thirst grew and his stomach growled. His wrists were raw from the constant twisting, and his side burned, a swathe of pain from fourth rib to just above his navel. Chrom was a fighter, had always been. But as the men - crude pirates, through and through - refused to treat his wound, stopped offering him water, and tacked out into the deep sea - he realized that he was going to die. 

He fought when the pirate captain laughingly told him they’d been hired - paid, handsomely - to take care of the Ylissean prince, as quietly and permanently as they could. 

The worst part of his death wasn’t his own demise, but that his sisters would never know. The men had been so careful, keeping his identity hidden as they ferried him from the city. The captain wielded Falchion with a gleeful expression, where Chrom could see, and then proclaimed, loudly, that it would be such a shame for a perfect blade to join its master in the depths of the sea. But he had his orders. 

Chrom was a dead man. 

On the third day, he was hauled from the mast. His legs were so weak, if the pirates hadn’t been holding his arms, he wouldn’t have been able to stand. He struggled, briefly, and got a sharp crack across his face for the trouble. It sent him crosseyed and reeling, and he lost precious few seconds. 

They made him walk the plank. Wind buffeted him, and he swayed as he was pushed out to the edge. When he looked out across the unending silver-blue, he could barely see where the waves met the beautiful sky. His side was a constant blur of agony, and breathing hurt. The salt water would hurt the wound. It would flood his lungs, fill his body, as he sank… 

Emmeryn and Lissa would mourn him, and he would be unable to protect them from whatever came next, after he’d been removed. Even as a ghost, he could never return home - his spirit might linger where he died, but it couldn’t make the three-days journey back to Ylisse. 

The captain asked if he had any last words, but refused to take the fabric gag out of his mouth to let him speak them. The pirates all laughed. 

Falchion fell into the depths first, disappearing with only a single glint of sunlight on metal. And Chrom joined it, propelled by a sharp kick to his back and then a stumble into nothingness. 

And then the splash, finite and crashing. 

He held his breath as he floated downward, knowing how futile it was. He turned his eyes up to the sunlight dappling the top of the water, already too far away. He struggled, trying to twist his arms free. The water did sting both his wrists and his side, but it was a tiny prickle, little more than the sting of gnats, compared to the weight of all that water around him. The breath in his lungs turned jagged, sharpened. He let out his air, a string of little bubbles one at a time, as the urge to breathe overwhelmed him. 

It grew darker, and darker. He fought to that bitter end, until his body overrode his brain and expelled all his air through his nose, the bubbles scurrying up and away. He breathed in water. Darkness gathered at the edges of his vision. He stopped struggling, weakened to a point where it all hurt intensely - and then past it, to a strange sort of waiting bliss, warm against the chill of the ocean all around him. 

Just before he drifted into it, stopped fighting and let go - he felt the brush of scale and flesh against his arms. A soft, surprisingly deep voice said in his ear, “Wait, I’ll help!” 

The next few moments slowed. He felt a great propulsion, the water rushing past his face. He breathed more water, choking on it. He might even have passed out - but the next thing he knew, the sea no longer pressed against his face, and he was choking out water and gasping in sweet, sweet air. The gag was down around his neck, removed from his mouth. And strong hands gripped his arms, holding him afloat. 

Some cruel trick of the pirates, perhaps? He knew better than to believe his sisters had discovered his kidnapping and sent someone to rescue him. “What…” he coughed, but didn’t open his eyes, his bodily needs more important than his mental need to understand what happened. He lived, and that was enough for the space of a handful of breaths. He coughed more seawater, and clung to that sweet pain as blessed air entered his lungs 

But gradually he became aware of a soft - _crooning _was the wrong word for it, as it was more guttural. The strange sound emanated from the slight man bobbing in the water next to him. Chrom blinked. The sunlight glittered off his white hair, droplets caught in his pale eyelashes and - the strange elongated ears. 

Chrom squeezed his eyes closed. Was he… an angel? 

“I’m dead,” he surmised, with a croak. But his wrists ached, and his side was practically aflame. If he’d gone on to heaven, surely he shouldn’t be feeling his body like this. 

The croon-crackle stopped. “You’re not dead,” the man said. “I saved you!” 

Chrom stared at him. He looked perfectly human except for those too large, almost floppy ears. 

The man came closer, pressing his cheek to Chrom’s, and made some sounds that could only be described as chirps. “What do you say, now that I’ve saved you?” 

“What?” Chrom could only continue to stare. Were those… shells in his hair? 

“Where are your manners?” The man didn’t seem upset, more… confused. 

“Thank you?” Chrom said, finally understanding what he meant. 

The sudden smile that stretched across his face made Chrom’s chest give a little flip-flop. There were rather too many teeth in that smile. “Well come, and well met!” the man chirped, and then swept in and brushed his cheek against Chrom’s. “Is that how you say it?” 

Chrom stared at him. 

“Did you hit your head?” The man moved his hands from Chrom’s arm. He turned Chrom’s head this way and that, and his fingers felt strange with the water running between them. Not at all waterlogged, as Chrom had expected, but… somewhat slick. As Chrom watched, the man gave him a thorough inspection. The strange noises continued, squeaking as a human should never be able to do. 

“But - what’s this? You’re hurt?” He touched Chrom’s side, and the unexpected brush was enough to have Chrom struggling away from him. They both ducked briefly under the water, Chrom panicking. He opened his eyes--

And watched as the man’s lower half came into view. 

He was naked from the collarbones down, a thin, elegant body - and where his hipbones should be, a long, powerful scaled body began. 

He had a tail - beautiful, flowing, white with all the colors of the rainbow glittering in his scales. 

They both broke the surface of the water again. “Mer-maid,” Chrom choked, “You’re a mermaid.” 

“Merman, to be precise,” Robin said, giving a toothy grin. “And you’re injured. That looks like it needs stitches.” He clicked, and pressed his body close again. 

“Please, untie me,” Chrom said. 

“Ah! I forgot you humans can’t swim with your - what are they called? Ah! Legs!” And before Chrom could protest, the man ducked beneath the water, leaving Chrom bobbing at the surface. He felt tension in his wrists, and breathed shallowly to try and keep himself afloat. When his hands came free, though, he could barely move them to propel himself forward in the water. He grabbed for the merman before he swam off, and pulled him up to the surface. 

The merman slid easily between his arms, shaking his hair out a bit like a dog before reaching out and cupping a webbed hand against Chrom’s cheek. That powerful tail brushed against Chrom's legs, clinging to the fabric. “Is that better?” 

“Thank you,” Chrom said. 

“Well come, and well met!” the merman crowed. “Now, should we introduce ourselves? I am called -” He made some chirping, whistling sounds, eyes brimming with good humor. “But you can call me…” His head tilted as he thought. “Robin! Like the air-fish. Have you seen any of them? I’m told they love to feed on worms in the grass." He pouted. "There aren’t any robins on my island.” 

“Your… island?” 

“Oh, would you like to see it?” 

“Please,” Chrom said, unbearably weary. 

“But I should… heal you first,” the merman said, and cupped a hand to Chrom’s side. 

Pain flared, and Chrom grabbed his wrist, yanking it away. 

“No, no, trust me,” Robin said, and moved in to brush his cheek against Chrom’s again. He whispered, soft and delicate into Chrom’s ear, “You’ll be fine. Just let me…” When he pressed his hand to Chrom’s wound, Chrom let him, instead drawing his body close. His limbs trembled with hunger and the ordeal of almost-drowning. They crested a wave together, and Chrom was glad for Robin’s strength, keeping them afloat. 

A strange tickle grew beneath Robin’s hand, and then a burning that was almost - therapeutic. It wasn’t sharp or painful. Robin hummed and clicked, pressing their wet temples together, water beading off his hair. 

When he brushed his mouth across Chrom’s neck, Chrom froze. But then he moved past it without so much as a mischievous glint in his eye. "Your skin… it's so warm," Robin whispered. 

Was that… a kiss? No, it hadn’t been deliberate. 

Chrom’s mind struggled to conjure up all the information he knew about merfolk. Plegians, they called themselves, after the great god Plegius, who the merfolk called Grima. The sea-god protected everything beneath the waves, but he had gone deep and dormant in the last thousand years. 

As the merman moved his left hand, Chrom noted the symbol on the back of it - the trident, juxtaposed with six eyes, representing Grima’s awareness. He’d been tattooed with Grima’s mark. Did all merfolk do this, or was this one - a priest, perhaps? 

Chrom’s father had waged a tremendous war against the merfolk, and had wiped out a significant number of their people. He knew nothing of their culture, besides the details that his father’s propaganda had shared. 

“You didn’t tell me what your name was,” Robin finally said, as the tingle began to fade. 

“Chrom,” he said, without thinking. He should have come up with a different name, should have hidden his identity, in case the merfolk knew him as his father's son. 

“Chrom - named for the metal?” 

Chrom blinked. “I… guess?” 

Robin pulled his hand away from Chrom’s side. “How does that feel?” 

Chrom gingerly touched it with his fingers. It was tender, but the raw, no doubt infected skin had healed. “You healed me,” he blurted. 

Robin grinned, and gave a long, low squeak that ended in a bright chirp. “Of course!” 

“Thank you,” Chrom said again. 

Robin pressed his cheek to Chrom’s, and whispered, “Well come, and well met.” 

And Chrom thought about how his father had _murdered_ these people by the thousands, decimated their population, driven them from the beautiful coves all along the coastline. He pretended the tears he shed were just sea water, getting in his eyes. “I’m tired,” he said, “And hungry… could I possibly bother you for some more assistance?” 

“Of course,” Robin said, smiling, and wiped at the tears with his strangely webbed fingers, then licked them from his fingertips. “You taste of the sea,” he said, and then swam in a circle around Chrom. “Well, that gives me an idea!” 

And before Chrom could ask what that idea was, the merman pressed sharp fingernails to his neck, drawing them from just under his jaw and halfway down his neck to brush against the larynx. Chrom jerked back, surprised by the sudden ache there. “What are you doing?” Chrom asked, pressing a hand to his neck, clinging to the merman’s shoulder with the other. 

Robin turned and flexed his own neck and revealed long narrow flaps beneath his own jaw. 

Gills. 

Robin had given Chrom… gills. 

“Come on!” Robin said, and creaked in what seemed an excited, welcoming way. 

And then he grasped one of Chrom’s hands and tugged him down beneath the water. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed! Unfortunately this is all I'll be writing of this au right now... but Kristin (and Megan) and I had loads of ideas pulled together for it. Please check out Kristin's Twitter post (https://twitter.com/shounenpng/status/1188539770445664256?s=20) for some amazing drawings and a summary of the whole story!


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